


Smooth

by Nyssa



Category: Starsky & Hutch - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-10
Updated: 2010-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-11 15:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyssa/pseuds/Nyssa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guys suffer hair loss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smooth

Hutch stepped into the shower brandishing Starsky's spare razor. "If you're gonna shave me," he said, "I'm gonna shave you."

Starsky grinned, the water cascading over his shoulders. "Nice try, buddy, but I shaved this morning. As you know, since I didn't give you whisker burn a while ago when we -- well, you know."

Hutch gave him a smug smile. "Who said I was talking about your face?"

"Oh, no. No, Hutch." Starsky backed away, as far as the intimate confines of the shower would allow. "You're not shaving my chest. My chest is famous. My chest is _iconic_."

"Your chest is hairy, Starsk, that's all."

"You just can't deal with the jealousy anymore, right? It's eating you up inside, you and your naked pectorals – "

"Starsky, I didn't say a word about your chest." He put out a hand and drew a finger lightly over a faded scar. "That wasn't what I had in mind at all."

"Oh," Starsky said, after a pause. And then, "It'll tickle."

"Sure it will. Just like it'll tickle my lip."

Starsky shifted his weight. "Lips are _supposed_ to be shaved."

"Who says?"

"Uh, it's in the Bible. Thou shalt not suffer the fur of thy face to grow."

"Oh."

"Yeah. But the fur of thy crotch shalt thou cherish."

"Starsk, so help me, I'll cherish every single follicle. I'll put it in a safety deposit box if it'll make you feel better."

"Wouldn't it be easier to get one of those professional wax jobs?"

"Way too expensive, Starsk. I've told you a thousand times, we have to be careful with our money if we're ever going to buy that retirement home in Rio."

Starsky sighed. "Okay. As long as we take turns. I'll give you a swipe, then you give me a swipe."

"Fine." Hutch shook the can of shaving cream and dispensed a healthy blob into Starsky's hand.

Starsky rubbed the foam over the left corner of Hutch's mustache, then carefully drew the razor over it. When it was bare, he leaned forward and kissed the spot gently.

"What was that for?" Hutch whispered.

"Just felt like it." Starsky grinned. "You're cute, soaking wet with three-quarters of a mustache."

Hutch grunted. "You mean seventy-five percent?" He knelt on the towel he'd placed on the shower floor. "Spread your legs, buddy."

Starsky swallowed, but did as directed. "Be careful. One false move and I'll no longer be the man of your dreams."

"That's why they call them _safety_ razors, Starsk. Here we go."

Starsky swayed a little as one large hand took his testicles in a gentle grip. "That's nice," he said. "Wanna call this off and have some fun?"

"I am having fun," Hutch said, squirting shaving cream just above Starsky's cock. A moment later, Starsky drew in a breath as the razor slid from left to right, then right to left.

"See?" Hutch said, glancing up with a smile. "Nothing to it." He planted his lips squarely in the center of the naked stripe.

Starsky pushed lightly at the top of Hutch's head. "C'mon, lower."

Hutch evaded Starsky's hands and stood. "Ah ah," he said, wagging a finger. "Your turn."

This time Starsky added a few more kisses on the new bare spot he created on Hutch's lip, and since Hutch didn't seem to object, he included some tongue as well.

Hutch knelt down again. "I'm gonna give you more than one stroke, Starsk. We're out of sync. My mustache is half gone, but you've still got a forest down here."

Starsky rested his hands on Hutch's shoulders. "Give me as many strokes as you want, baby." He shivered, his skin crawling delightfully as the razor snicked through his forest.

"You like that, don't you?" Hutch whispered, just before he buried his face against Starsky's groin and turned his head from side to side.

"Mmm." Starsky closed his eyes and laced his fingers through Hutch's hair. "I like that better."

Hutch stood up again. "Let's hurry," he said. He put a hand under the shower head. "We're losing the hot water."

"I'm almost done with you," Starsky said. "Stand still." He carefully removed another section of mustache, and then, after considering, finished the job quickly.

"Beautiful," he breathed. "Here, wash your face." He adjusted the shower head, directing the spray at Hutch's face. Hutch closed his eyes and let it wash over him.

Starsky took Hutch's face in his hands and kissed him until the water grew uncomfortably cool.

Hutch reached behind his partner and turned the water off. "Let's finish you off in bed, okay?"

Starsky leaned in for another kiss. "Yeah, finish me off."

They stepped out and dried each other slowly, between kisses. Hutch failed to hold back a laugh as he toweled Starsky's groin.

Starsky gave him a tap on the head with his knuckles. "Somethin' funny?"

"You. You're cute with three-quarters of your pubic hair."

"You mean seventy-five percent?"

The bed was much easier on Hutch's knees. He worked slowly, carefully, ignoring Starsky's excited whimpers and pleas to hurry. Starsky leaned back on his elbows and watched as Hutch delved between his spread legs, the hair falling to the towel beneath him. Hutch, he noted, had a hard-on like a pool cue. He started to touch it a couple of times, but reluctantly held back. Hutch's hand might slip if he got too happy.

As for himself, he was way past happy and approaching desperate. Hutch had to keep taking hold of Starsky's cock and moving it out of the way – up, down, to the side – and every time he did, Starsky moaned. It wasn't just any moan. It was the moan Hutch liked so much, the one that always made him try harder – thrust deeper, jerk faster, suck more hungrily. Starsky felt Hutch's hands shake dangerously at that moan.

When he was done, Hutch reached for the hand mirror he'd laid on the nightstand. Starsky knew he wanted to show him what he looked like, but Starsky didn't give a damn, not by then. He intercepted Hutch's arm, grabbing it and twisting his body until he was straddling Hutch and they were both panting hard.

Hutch's bare upper lip was shining with sweat, his eyes shining with lust. "We need to rub lotion on it," he whispered. "You need – "

Starsky silenced him with a kiss. Hutch kissed back, savagely, winding his fingers tightly into Starsky's hair.

"Fuck lotion," Starsky panted, when Hutch allowed him to pull his mouth far enough away to speak. "Fuck – fuck – "

Hutch grabbed him and flipped him over, onto his back. "Not yet," he whispered. "First I want my face in it." He crawled downward, lifted Starsky's legs, and buried his head between them.

Starsky looked down. Hutch was turning his head back and forth, back and forth, rubbing his face against Starsky's naked crotch as though trying to absorb it through his skin. He often did that, but it felt different with no hair between them. Every touch jolted through Starsky like lightning.

"Hutch," he said, trying to beg, but scarcely able to speak.

"So smooth," Hutch whispered. "God, it's so smooth." Starsky watched him put out his tongue, and then he was being licked, slowly, thoroughly, everywhere that was newly bare.

Starsky let his head fall back on the pillow. When Hutch finally slid his mouth down over Starsky's straining dick, he could barely manage so much as a weak shout before he came.

When Hutch fucked him, he couldn't even do that.

 

*****

 

"See?" Hutch angled the mirror between Starsky's legs. "Look how smooth it is."

Starsky glanced down dubiously. "Yeah. So what?"

Hutch put the mirror back on the nightstand. Starsky curled back into his arms, yawning. They'd only slept an hour or so before Hutch woke him up with the lotion. It did feel good, cool and soothing.

"I don't know. I just like it."

Starsky gave him a suspicious glance. "You don't wanna shave the rest of me, do ya? 'Cause I meant it, Hutch, I'm keepin' my chest hair. And if you want me to wear pantyhose, you can just – "

Hutch laughed. "I don't care about the rest of you. I wouldn't even care if you grew a beard. I just like you smooth, down there. I've always liked that. I used to ask girls to let me do it to them sometimes."

"You're weird," Starsky said. "A nice, full bush – that's one of the best things about girls."

Hutch shrugged. "So I'm weird."

"You're also pretty," Starsky said. He drew his thumb lightly over Hutch's bare upper lip. "Makes you look ten years younger."

Hutch blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah. You're beautiful."

Hutch picked up the mirror again and studied his face. "I guess you did a pretty good job. For an amateur."

"Hey, I've been thinking about opening a barber shop when we retire from the force." He raised his hands, framing a sign in the air with his fingers. "Dave's Tonsorial Emporium. Clips, cuts, shaves, and dye jobs. All styles, specializing in ugly facial hair removal."

Hutch narrowed his eyes. "It wasn't ugly."

Starsky shrugged. "It wasn't pretty."

"It gave me character and gravitas."

"It gave me skin rashes."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"I've got sensitive skin, Hutch! That's why you had to slather all that lotion on me just now." He took Hutch's hand and guided it to his groin. "And you'll have to keep on doing it. At least once a day. If you don't, I'll be too sensitive to – well, you know."

Hutch stroked him lightly, running a finger over the seam between his balls. "I can't get over how smooth it is," he said softly.

Starsky shifted. "It feels funny."

"You'll get used to it."

"I guess."

"It's beautiful."

"Whatever you say. Let's go to sleep, huh?"

Hutch smiled. "Okay." He turned off the bedside lamp, and they settled comfortably against each other, Starsky spooned against Hutch's back, Hutch holding Starsky's hand against his belly.

When sleep came, they dreamed of warm, gentle lips caressing soft, smooth skin.


End file.
